Natalya stood by the window, watching her husband Alexei and his mother struggle out of the elevator with heavy grocery bags. They were discussing something, and by her mother-in-law’s gestures it was clear the conversation was once again about her. Lidiya Petrovna waved toward their third-floor apartment, shook her head, and pressed her lips together—the classic set of expressions Natalya had learned to read like an open book over seven years of marriage.
When they got married, everything seemed simpler. Alexei was attentive, romantic; they could talk for hours about anything. At first his mother also kept her distance, limiting herself to polite holiday visits. But gradually Lidiya Petrovna started showing up more and more often.
At first she came to help with the apartment renovation—after all, Natalya worked late at a marketing agency and “young people need support.” Then she began cooking their dinners because “little Natasha is so tired, how could she possibly cook.” After that came advice on running the household, choosing furniture, planning vacations. And for the last six months she had been living in their living room “temporarily,” while the heating system in her house was being replaced.
“Alyosha, your wife is out late again somewhere,” came Lidiya Petrovna’s voice from the entryway. “Normal women take care of the home, not traipse around offices. And this one…”
Natalya stepped away from the window, not wanting to hear the rest. She knew another round of hints about how “wrong” she was was coming. Either she worked too much, or spent too little time at home, or dressed inappropriately, or kept suspicious company.
The door clicked and Alexei and his mother came in.
“Hi,” Natalya went into the hallway, trying to sound cheerful.
“Oh, and here’s our little workhorse,” Lidiya Petrovna didn’t even look at her, busying herself with unpacking. “Alyosha, help me carry everything to the kitchen. Some people won’t lift a finger.”
Alexei shot his wife an apologetic look and silently picked up the bags. He always stayed silent when his mother started in. He’d just pretend he didn’t hear or change the subject.
“How’s work?” he asked as he passed by.
“Fine. And you?”
“Very tired. I’ll eat and watch TV.”
And indeed, half an hour later Alexei was already in an armchair in front of the TV with a can of beer, flipping channels. Lidiya Petrovna bustled about in the kitchen, occasionally tossing out remarks about how one ought to live and what “normal wives” do.
Natalya went into the bedroom and sat at the computer. She needed to finish a presentation for tomorrow’s meeting, but she couldn’t concentrate. The sound of the TV came through the wall, dishes clattered in the kitchen, and the same thought kept circling in her head: “When will this end? When will I stop being a guest in my own apartment?”
The next day after work Natalya decided to stop by the grocery store near home. In the line at the register, a man she didn’t know stood in front of her with a single bag of milk and a loaf of bread. When it was their turn, the cashier announced the terminal wasn’t working—cash only.
“I only have a card,” the man said, flustered.
“I have cash,” Natalya offered money. “I’ll pay.”
“Thank you so much, but I can’t accept—”
“It’s nothing, really. Milk and bread aren’t a Mercedes.”
The man smiled, embarrassed.
“Then I’ll definitely pay you back. I live in the next entrance, apartment 45.”
“Natalya, apartment 38.”
“Igor. And truly, thank you.”
They left the store together, and Igor walked her to the entrance. Turned out he’d moved in a month ago, worked at an IT company, lived alone.
“By the way,” Natalya remembered, “are you the one who smokes on the balcony? The smoke’s getting into our windows.”
Igor looked abashed.
“Yes, that’s me. I’m sorry, I didn’t think. I won’t anymore.”
“It’s not a big deal, I just can’t stand tobacco smoke.”
They said goodbye, and Natalya went upstairs. At home the familiar scene awaited her: Alexei in the armchair in front of the TV, and Lidiya Petrovna in the kitchen with a disapproving face.
“Where’ve you been?” her husband asked without taking his eyes off the screen.
“At the store.”
“Out shopping again,” her mother-in-law grumbled. “There’s a mountain of things to do at home and she’s out having fun.”
Natalya didn’t answer. She went into the bedroom and lay down, staring at the ceiling. She had once dreamed of a family warm and cozy, with shared interests and plans. Instead, she’d ended up with three strangers in one apartment.
A few days later, coming home from work, she ran into Igor by the mailboxes.
“Oh, hi!” He smiled with genuine pleasure. “I’ve been meaning to stop by and repay you for the milk.”
“Forget the milk already.”
“Then let me at least invite you for coffee to say thanks.”
Natalya wanted to refuse, but thought: why not? At home the same old picture awaited her—her husband in the armchair, her mother-in-law in the kitchen with complaints.
“Okay, but just for a little while.”
They went to a small café near the house. Igor turned out to be a wonderful conversationalist—talked about books, travel, work. Turned out they both loved Agatha Christie’s mysteries and the Strugatsky brothers’ sci-fi.
“Do you do any sports?” he asked. “I recently started power walking—go to Sokolniki Park on weekends.”
“Yes, I walk sometimes too. Alone, though. My husband doesn’t like active leisure.”
Igor nodded and didn’t pry. They talked for almost two hours, and Natalya suddenly realized she hadn’t enjoyed a conversation that much in a long time.
At home an unhappy Alexei met her:
“Where were you? Mom made dinner and you weren’t here.”
“I was at a café.”
“With who?”
“With the neighbor from 45. We met at the store.”
Lidiya Petrovna looked out of the kitchen.
“Oh, so we’re going to cafés with the neighbors now. And at home your husband is sitting here hungry.”
“Alyosha isn’t hungry; he can reheat dinner himself,” Natalya replied calmly.
“Oh, really!” the mother-in-law burst out. “So the husband should warm up his own food while the wife runs around cafés!”
Natalya went into the bedroom without answering. She was tired of justifying every step she took.
Over the next weeks she met Igor several more times—by the house, at the store. They chatted pleasantly, and gradually these meetings became an escape. Igor didn’t meddle with advice, didn’t criticize; he simply listened and understood.
One weekend Natalya decided to try:
“Alyosh, maybe we could go somewhere? To the theater or a restaurant? We haven’t gone anywhere for months.”
“I don’t feel like going anywhere. I’m tired from work; I want to relax at home.”
“Then let’s at least go to the park, take a walk. It would be good for you—to lose some extra weight.”
Alexei shot her an irritated look.
“What extra weight? I’m fine. And a park isn’t rest, it’s effort.”
“Alyosh, we’ve stopped doing anything together…”
“What are we supposed to do? I work, earn money, come home, eat, watch TV. That’s a normal life.”
From the kitchen, Lidiya Petrovna, who had been listening, decided to butt in:
“Alyosha is right. What do you need theaters and restaurants for—waste of money. It’s nice at home, family-like. Go to the theater and there’ll be all sorts of men hanging around…”
Natalya felt herself boiling inside.
“Lidiya Petrovna, this is a conversation between me and my husband.”
“What am I, a stranger? I’m his mother; I have a right to an opinion.”
“You do. Just not in our bedroom.”
“You see?” Alexei shook his head. “Instantly a scandal. Why go anywhere if we can’t even talk at home?”
Natalya realized the conversation was pointless. She grabbed her windbreaker and left.
In the park she unexpectedly met Igor. He was power-walking along the path with headphones on.
“Natalya!” He waved happily. “What a coincidence!”
“Hi,” she smiled for the first time that day.
“Out for a walk too? Care to join me?”
They walked along the park paths, and Natalya gradually relaxed. Igor told funny life stories, pointed out pretty places in the park she’d never noticed before.
“You look a little sad,” he observed. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, just tired.”
“I get it. Work, home, family—everything on you.”
Natalya was surprised at how accurately he’d guessed.
“How do you know?”
“It shows in your eyes. My sister wore herself out the same way until she got divorced. Now she says she was reborn.”
They walked for almost three hours, and Natalya didn’t notice the time fly. With Igor it was easy and comfortable; he didn’t pressure, didn’t lecture, he just was there.
At home her husband was displeased:
“Where have you been?”
“Walking in the park.”
“Alone?”
Natalya hesitated a second.
“No, I ran into a friend.”
“The same neighbor?”
“Yes.”
Lidiya Petrovna immediately appeared from the living room:
“So it begins! Strolling through parks with men! Alyosha, do you see what’s happening?”
“Mom, don’t,” Alexei said wearily.
“What do you mean ‘don’t’? Your wife is spending time with strange men and you say nothing!”
“Lidiya Petrovna, I was just taking a walk,” Natalya tried to explain.
“Sure, a walk! Decent women don’t take walks with other men!”
“And who am I supposed to walk with if my husband won’t?”
“Alone! Or stay home!”
Alexei turned the TV up louder to show he didn’t want to take part. Natalya realized he would never take her side.
In the following months her meetings with Igor became regular. They walked in the park, went to bookstores, discussed what they’d read in cafés. Natalya understood that she was looking forward to these meetings, that Igor had become more important to her than her husband. With him she could be herself, without justifying every word or listening to reproaches.
At home the atmosphere grew more tense. Lidiya Petrovna had fully settled into the living room, brought all her things, and behaved like the rightful mistress of the apartment. She rearranged furniture, changed the order of things in the kitchen, criticized Natalya for every little thing.
“Alyosha, talk to your wife,” she announced one evening. “She’s completely let herself go. Either she’s in a café or in the park; she’s never home. And the house is neglected—no order at all.”
“What do you mean, neglected?” Natalya protested. “It’s clean here!”
“You call this clean?” Lidiya Petrovna ran a finger along the windowsill. “Dust! And when was the last time you washed the fridge?”
“Maybe it’s time you went home, Lidiya Petrovna? Your repairs were finished long ago.”
“What do you mean, home?” her mother-in-law asked, genuinely surprised. “I’m needed here! Who will look after Alyosha if you’re always gone?”
“Alyosha is an adult; he can look after himself.”
“Oh, sure! Men need care, attention. And what do you give? Only complaints!”
Natalya looked at her husband, expecting him to say something, but Alexei just drank his beer, eyes glued to the screen.
That night Natalya couldn’t fall asleep for a long time. She lay next to her snoring husband and thought about how her life had turned into mere existence. She worked, came home to reproaches and indifference, went to bed, and it all repeated again.
And then there were her meetings with Igor—little islands of joy in the gray routine. He cared about her opinions, laughed at her jokes, remembered what she liked and disliked. With him she felt alive.
One day, when they were sitting in a café after a walk, Igor took her hand.
“Natalya, I have to say… Our time together means a lot to me. You’ve become… a special person to me.”
She didn’t pull her hand away.
“You have to me as well.”
“I know you’re married, but… I can’t hide my feelings. I’ve fallen in love with you.”
Natalya stayed silent, looking at their joined hands. She had fallen in love too but was afraid to admit it to herself.
“I’m not asking for an answer right now,” Igor went on. “I just wanted you to know.”
“Thank you for your honesty,” she said softly.
Natalya went into the bedroom and took two large suitcases from the closet. Methodically, she packed her husband’s things: shirts, pants, underwear, socks. Then she moved on to her mother-in-law’s things in the living room: dresses, slippers, cosmetics, medicines.
Alexei and Lidiya Petrovna came back from the store, arguing in raised voices as usual. Natalya heard them climbing the stairs and took her place by the door.
The doorbell rang. Natalya opened the door and, smiling, said:
“These are yours and your mother’s things. You’re moving out.” The joyful wife set two big suitcases in front of her husband.
Alexei and Lidiya Petrovna froze in the doorway, not understanding what was happening.
“What does this mean?” Alexei finally managed.
“It means I’m no longer willing to live as a threesome. You and your mother already live a life separate from me, make all your decisions without me, ignore my needs. So be it—live separately.”
“Have you gone crazy?” Lidiya Petrovna tried to push her way into the apartment, but Natalya blocked her.
“No, quite the opposite—I’ve come to my senses. I’m tired of being a guest in my own home, tired of justifying every move, tired of living with people to whom I’m indifferent.”
“Natalya, let’s talk calmly,” Alexei tried to reason with her.
“Calmly? We’ve been talking calmly for five years—what’s the result? You’ve turned into a couch potato, and your mother acts like the mistress of my apartment.”
“This is our family!” Lidiya Petrovna protested. “You have no right!”
“I do. I bought this apartment before the marriage, and I decide who lives here.”
“You can’t kick us out!” Alexei couldn’t believe it.
“I can, and I am. You’re adults—go live with your mother. I’m not going to bury myself in this marriage anymore.”
Natalya took the suitcases and set them on the landing.
“Tomorrow I’ll file for divorce. You can pick up the rest of your things when I’m home.”
She closed the door and leaned her back against it. Angry voices sounded outside, but gradually they receded.
Natalya walked through the apartment, savoring the silence. For the first time in many years, she was at home alone. She opened all the windows, put on music she loved, and brewed a good cup of tea.
The next day she ran into Igor by the entrance.
“How are you?” he asked, looking at her closely.
“Good. I’m getting a divorce.”
Igor didn’t feign surprise or ask for details.
“That’s a hard decision.”
“No, an easy one. What was hard was living in a marriage that had turned into mere existence.”
“If you need support, I’m here.”
“I know. Thank you.”
The divorce went through without scandal. Alexei tried to come back, promised his mother wouldn’t interfere anymore, but Natalya was adamant. She had endured for too many years, hoping things would change. But people don’t change unless they want to.
Igor didn’t rush her. He understood she needed time to recover after the divorce and sort out her feelings. They kept meeting, walking, talking, but he didn’t insist on intimacy. With Igor, Natalya blossomed. She remembered she could laugh, dream, make plans. They fit each other perfectly—shared interests, similar outlooks on life. None of their friends were surprised when Igor proposed and she said yes.
Her life, it turned out, was only just beginning